The chamber still smelled faintly of smoke when the summons came.
A knock—three slow taps—then a voice beyond the door saying his name with practiced calm. Seraphina never raised her voice. She didn't need to.
"Liam," she said, "come with me."
She didn't wait for him to answer. She never did.
Liam pushed off the stone bed, wincing as the mark on his arm flickered with a low, simmering heat. Not painful, but present. Always present now, like a second pulse under his skin.
He glanced around the room—bare walls, dim gold torches, a bowl of water that still reflected the moment he almost lost control. The echo of the Sun-Seed thrummed beneath his ribs, restless.
"Right," he muttered. "Let's see what disaster today brings."
He followed her out.
Seraphina walked ahead through the corridors of the citadel, steps measured and eerily quiet. Her hair shifted like molten gold in the light, casting warm reflections along the cold stone.
She looked composed.
But Liam could feel something else under that calm—something coiled tight.
He didn't comment on it.
Instead, he asked, "Where are we going?"
"To the war room," she said. "We have business."
"Business," he echoed. "That's vague."
"You would prefer frightening?"
"Not really," he admitted.
"Then be grateful."
She led him into a tall chamber lined with maps, crystal projections, and long tables made of dark oak. Several vampires stood inside—generals, advisors, commanders—each wearing armor shaped with minimal flourish. They straightened when Seraphina entered.
But when they saw Liam, they went still.
Not out of fear exactly—something less readable. Uncertainty. Curiosity.
Expectation.
Seraphina noticed. "Eyes front," she said simply.
All heads snapped back to her.
Liam tried to swallow the strange weight settling in his stomach. People staring didn't bother him; he'd grown used to that long before the Sun-Seed flared. But being looked at as if something inside him might ignite at any second…
That was new.
The projections shifted, revealing a broad red-tinted map. A fortress blinked in harsh crimson light at its center, surrounded by markers indicating troop lines.
Marcus's crest stamped every corner.
Liam's breath tightened. "His territory."
"Yes," Seraphina said.
He waited for the explanation.
She didn't ease into it.
"I need you to take it," she said.
Liam blinked. "You…need me to what?"
Her gaze didn't waver. "Marcus has established a new frontier fort in the lowlands. It is not heavily guarded yet, but he intends to move a cadre of Nightwalkers there by the week's end. If he succeeds, he will control the passage to the valley."
"And that affects…?"
"Everything," she replied. "Trade routes. Supply chains. Civilian protection. Our strongholds in the north. Marcus's influence would double overnight."
Liam stared at the map, pulse thudding.
"You want me to help," he said slowly.
"No," Seraphina corrected, voice soft but firm.
"I want you to lead."
The words hit like a cold wave.
"Lead?" he repeated. "I haven't even mastered walking with this thing inside me without accidentally lighting the room."
One of the generals shifted. "With respect, my queen, the boy is untested—"
"Boy." Liam muttered.
Seraphina didn't look away from him. "Liam is not a boy."
The room went silent.
She stepped closer, gestured to his arm. "That mark. That fire. That bloodline. It is not passive power—it is directional. It answers purpose."
He felt a flutter under his skin, as if reacting to her words.
"Marcus is building a threat," Seraphina continued, "and I will not grant him time to fortify it. We attack now. Tonight."
Liam frowned. "Why me? You have an entire court of immortals who can—"
"None of them carry what you do," she cut in. "None of them can burn magic itself."
Liam felt cold again. "I thought removing Marcus's fort meant destroying stone or soldiers. You're saying you want me to burn their magic."
"Yes."
"That's—"
He swallowed.
"—that's dangerous."
Seraphina's expression softened, but not with pity. With something steadier. "You won't be alone."
"Doesn't feel like that matters."
"It does," a voice said from behind him.
Liam turned and saw them—a small group of Seraphina's personal guard. They bowed to him, not her.
A bow meant for a superior.
Liam felt the breath leave his lungs. "Why are they doing that?"
"Because they felt your eruption last night," Seraphina said quietly. "And they recognize what it means."
"What does it mean?"
"That the power in your bloodline has accepted you."
He wanted to laugh. Loudly. "It tried to burn me alive."
"That was the greeting," she said gently.
Liam stared at her. "What's the actual acceptance going to feel like?"
She didn't answer.
One of the guards stepped forward, a tall woman with ash-white hair braided tight. She spoke with respect but little hesitation.
"Phoenix," she said, "we follow your flame."
Liam choked. "I'm sorry, what did you just call me?"
"Phoenix," she repeated with a small bow. "It is how we refer to those who bear the Sun-Seed."
Liam shot Seraphina a look that was half panic, half outrage. "You didn't tell me that part."
Seraphina raised an eyebrow. "I thought you preferred truth to comfort."
"Not that much truth!"
But the room didn't laugh.
They didn't even smile.
They looked at him like the title meant something ancient. Something weighty.
Something dangerous.
Liam felt heat curl beneath his skin again—restless, eager, as if responding to the name.
Phoenix.
He forced a breath. "Fine. Let's say I take this fort. What happens if I lose control again?"
"You won't," Seraphina said, stepping close enough for her voice to lower. "Because I will be there. Because they will follow your call. Because the flame inside you has begun to listen."
"And if it stops listening?"
"It won't."
"That's not a guarantee."
"It's the closest thing you'll get."
Her gaze softened just slightly. "Liam. You survived a direct awakening. You channeled a power designed to consume. You're standing. That alone is proof."
He looked down at his arm, where the faint gold shimmer pulsed.
He didn't feel strong.
He felt like a lantern with a storm trapped inside it.
But the idea of Marcus building power…
Of more villages burning…
Of more screaming…
His throat tightened painfully.
The old memory came back—not a clear one, but fragmented. Smoke. A child crying. The crackle of flames eating wood. His own hands over his ears. His mother's shaking voice.
"Liam, don't look. Don't look."
He clenched his fists.
"Fine," he said. "I'll do it."
Seraphina exhaled—not in relief, but almost like she'd been expecting the answer all along.
"Good," she said. "Prepare yourself. We leave at sundown."
The preparations took hours.
Armor fitted. Strategy reviewed. Routes mapped. Seraphina walked him through every step of the infiltration, the firestorm formation, the retreat path if needed.
But the more they planned…the more Liam felt the fire inside him thrum.
It wasn't fear.
It was anticipation.
He didn't know if that was comforting or horrifying.
At one point, as Seraphina adjusted the leather bracer on his wrist, she murmured, "You're trembling."
"Yeah, well, that tends to happen when you're tasked with burning down a fortress."
"You won't burn it down," she said. "You will unmake it."
"That's not helping."
A ghost of a smile touched her lips. "Would you like me to lie instead?"
Liam groaned. "You're terrible at comforting people."
"I'm excellent at it," she corrected, tightening the strap. "You simply respond poorly."
He almost laughed.
Almost.
As dusk approached, the torches dimmed, and the citadel grew quieter—everyone preparing for departure.
Liam stood on the balcony overlooking the valley. The wind chilled his skin, but the fire within him pulsed warmly, contradicting the world around him.
The Sun-Seed mark glowed faint gold.
"Are you ready?" Seraphina asked, stepping beside him.
"No," Liam said honestly. "But I'm going anyway."
She nodded once. "Then you are ready enough."
The sky darkened.
Below, the army gathered.
Above, the stars flickered like old embers.
Beside him, Seraphina lifted her hand, summoning flame.
Within him, something older stirred.
"Tonight," she said softly, "you become Fireborne."
Liam exhaled, long and steady.
"Then let's go."
They stepped forward.
Into dusk.
Into war.
Into fire.